Whats Wrong with Biff and Happy?
[Biff is talking with his brother, Happy. They are together with their parents in the home where they grew up.]
BIFF: [with rising agitation] Hap, Ive had twenty or thirty different kinds of jobs since I left home before the war, and it always turns out the same. I just realized it lately. In Nebraska, when I herded cattle, and the Dakotas, and Arizona, and now in Texas. Its why I came home now, I guess, because I realized it.
This farm I work on, its spring there now, see? And theyve got about fifteen new colts. Theres nothing more inspiring orbeautiful than the sight of a mare and a new colt. And its cool there now, see? Texas is cool now, and its spring. And whenever spring comes to where I am, I suddenly get the feeling, my God, Im not gettin anywhere! What the hell am I doing, playing around with horses, twenty-eight dollars a week! Im thirty-four years old, I oughta be makinmy future.
Thats when I come running home. And now, I get here, and I dont know what to do with myself. [After a pause] Ive always made a point of not wasting my life, and every time I come back here I know that all Ive done is to waste my life.
HAPPY: Youre a poet, you know that, Biff?
Youre a youre an idealist!
BIFF: No, Im mixed up very bad. Maybe I oughta get married.Maybe I oughta get stuck into something. Maybe thats my trouble. Im like a boy. Im not married,
Im not in business, I just Im like a boy. Are you content, Hap? Youre a success, arent you? Are you content?
HAPPY: Hell, no!
BIFF:Why? Youre making money, arent you?
HAPPY: [moving about with energy, expressiveness] All I can do now is wait for the merchandise manager to die. And suppose I get to be merchandise manager?
Hes a good friend of mine, and he just built a terrific estate on Long Island. And he lived there about two months and sold it, and now hes building another one.
He cant enjoy it once its finished. And I know thats just what I would do. I dont know what the hell Im workin for. Sometimes I sit in my apartment all alone.
And I think of the rent Im paying. And its crazy. But then, its what I always wanted. My own apartment, a car, and plenty of women. And still, goddammit, Im lonely.
Arthur Miller, from Death of a Salesman (1949)
Why isnt the merchandise manager happy?
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